


you will hear thunder and remember me

by sleeplessmiles



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Skye loses control – really loses control, that is, not just a power surge – it’s not May who’s there to talk her down.</p>
<p>It’s Jemma and Fitz.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>In which Skye struggles with her grief, and Jemma and Fitz take care of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you will hear thunder and remember me

**Author's Note:**

> This happened after I saw speculation that the team would somehow abandon Skye, based on how they dealt with the Donnie situation. That is simply not a reality I can accept.
> 
> It's also the first time I've acknowledged the Trip thing in anything I've written.
> 
> (Please note the content warning in the tags.)

 

The first time Skye loses control – _really_ loses control, that is, not just a power surge – it’s not May who’s there to talk her down.

It’s Jemma and Fitz.

 

-

-

 

The alarms Skye insisted they install are howling around them, telling people to evacuate to a safe distance, but Jemma barely even registers them. Her eyes are fixed on Skye, who’s just outside the lab, doubled over and gripping onto a door handle as though it’s the only thing holding her together.

‘Fitz!’ Jemma yells sharply, pushing through the steady flow of technicians fleeing in the opposite direction.

‘I see her!’ he calls back, fighting his way in the same direction.

When they finally get close enough to see what’s wrong, Jemma’s stomach drops at what they find.

Skye’s struggling with her breathing.

_Panic attack,_ Jemma realises.

She hasn’t a clue what triggered it, but Jemma knows from experience that the trigger doesn’t even matter at this point – what matters is the way the panic can’t be contained, and how that continues to breed more and more panic.

They need to nip this in the bud quickly, before it escalates even further.

She glances briefly across at Fitz, whose knowing eyes and grim expression suggest he’s reached the same conclusion.

‘Skye?’ Jemma ventures, ignoring the faint rumbling from deep within the earth. She reaches a tentative hand out to Skye’s shoulder. ‘Skye, it’s okay. You’re okay.’

When Skye glances up to find them both there, her face becomes instantly fearful. She waves them away frantically with her free arm.

‘Get out!’ she growls at them.

Jemma almost scoffs. Like that’s even an _option._

‘You know that’s not going to happen,’ she refutes, voice firm. ‘Now, I need you to take a deep breath for me.’

Skye’s teeth are gritted together now as she scowls at the floor, trying to control her breathing.

‘Simmons, I’m serious. Get out.’

‘You think I’m joking? I’m not leaving you.’

A little dust falls from the ceiling. Looking up with panicked eyes, Skye changes tactics.

‘Fitz! Get her out.’

Fitz doesn’t even dignify that with an immediate reply, choosing instead to channel his energy into looking immensely offended at the suggestion. He raises his hands in surrender.

‘Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not going anywhere.’

Skye makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a snarl.

‘You have to… I can’t… I can’t _control it_.’

‘You _can_ ,’ Jemma murmurs quietly, Fitz nodding eagerly next to her, and the startling truth is that she fully believes what she’s saying. She doesn’t have a shred of empirical evidence to support it, except for the fact that this is _Skye_.

Skye can overcome anything. She can overcome this.

She just needs a little help, is all.

(The ground continues to rattle ominously.)

Jemma swallows, raises her chin slightly. She can do this. She can help her friend. Calling to mind the various times May’s talked her down from her own panic attacks, recalling how she went about it, Jemma grips Skye’s shoulder more firmly.

‘Skye, I need you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?’

She’s shaking her head, eyes squeezed shut. Her knuckles are white around the door handle that she refuses to release.

‘Yes, you can,’ Jemma insists.

‘I _can’t_.’ 

‘Skye, what you’re experiencing is a panic attack, and it’s _completely_ normal – ’

‘ – The walls… are about… to fucking cave in… and you think… this is normal?’

‘Hey, she’s a doctor, alright? She’d know,’ Fitz chimes in, rubbing gentle circles in the middle of Skye’s back.

There’s a sudden shuffling at the end of the hallway. Skye’s gaze darts towards the sound, a few tears escaping; Fitz turns to look as well. Jemma only darts her gaze across long enough to confirm what she already knows, before shifting her focus back to Skye.

She’s right, of course. The whole team is there.

One glance is all she needs to take in the scene: Lance’s worried face, Bobbi standing there with a gutted expression and a fistful of Lance’s jacket to hold him back, Mack’s serious gaze. May, looking – oh, _God_ – looking positively _devastated_ a few steps in front of the rest of the team, clearly torn between coming to help and giving Skye her space.

Not a single one of them is glancing at the walls in concern, nor the ceiling.

They’re all watching Skye.

(No one ran away from her, they all ran _towards_ her, and _God_ Jemma wishes Skye could see it as a good thing.)

She meets Fitz’s gaze over the top of Skye’s head. By the way he tightens his lips, she knows they’re on the same wavelength.

He’ll make sure they don’t crowd her.

‘Don’t worry about them, alright?’ she says firmly. Heedless of Jemma’s warning, she keeps darting her eyes towards the team. ‘Skye. Look at me.’

‘They need to leave – you need to _leave –_ ’

‘No one’s leaving, okay?’ 

‘I’ll hurt you – _please_ – ’

‘ _Skye_ ,’ Jemma cuts in, trying to keep the desperation out of her own pleading tone. There are tears streaming down her cheeks now, and she’s not even sure when they started. ‘We’re _not_ leaving you alone in this!’

For a split-second, Skye’s panicked eyes meet Jemma’s, heavy and grief-stricken. The sheer pain in her gaze hits Jemma like a sucker punch.

_Trip_. _Oh, God, why._

‘I can’t… breathe,’ Skye half-whines, finally, and Jemma recognises it for what it is – pained acceptance of the fact that she won’t be able to budge her friends.

She’s asking for help.

It’s not much, but Jemma will take what she can get.

‘It’s because you’re compressing your lungs. Here.’ Gripping Skye’s forearms, she pulls her into an upright position to open up her airways. Skye comes readily, grasping at Jemma’s forearms in return with an ironclad grip.

That helps, Jemma thinks. Knowing Skye’s still got that fight in her, even with tears streaming down her face.

(Of course she does, though. She’s _Skye_.)

‘That’s better. Try now.’

Skye takes a few gulping breaths, eyes widening even more when she finds she can’t breathe as deeply as she needs to. Jemma’s chest is nearly physically aching at how familiar the situation is; she almost feels as though she’s hyperventilating herself. 

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ she promises. ‘Look at my eyes, Skye. Look at them.’

Skye’s wild, panicked gaze finally, _finally_ , latches onto Jemma’s. Jemma nods, smiling encouragingly through her tears.

‘Now don’t let go,’ she whispers.    

And Skye doesn’t.

Not when Fitz steps back to give them space, his hand falling away from Skye’s back.

Not when Skye laboriously matches her breathing rhythm to Jemma’s, tries to slow to the steady pace she sets.

Not when the uncomfortable shaking of the ground subsides, dust no longer showering down from the ceiling.

Skye’s gaze doesn’t shift from Jemma’s.

Not once.

 

-

-

 

After the hyperventilation finally subsides into a slightly more stable breathing pattern, Skye tries to speak.

‘I feel…’ she waves a hand vaguely in front of her face.

‘Lightheaded?’ Jemma supplies helpfully. Skye nods. ‘That’s understandable. Come sit down?’

At Skye’s grateful expression, Jemma leads her over to the wall a few metres away, helping her to lower herself to the ground. Fitz slides down the wall next to her without even a moment’s hesitation, instantly grabbing for her hand. Smiling gently at the sight, Jemma settles herself down on Skye’s other side.

‘Better?’

Skye nods a little, still concentrating on timing her breaths. Jemma winces.

‘Sit with your back straight against the wall,’ she suggests. ‘It’ll help with your breathing, I promise.’

As Skye adjusts her position, Jemma takes the opportunity to looks across at May, taking in the helpless desperation etched into the older woman’s features. Jemma hasn’t seen such abject terror on May’s face since the day they’d arrived at the Playground, to hear news of a comatose Fitz.

It’s not an expression she’d ever wanted to see again.

Now, Jemma answers the question on May’s face with a small nod.

_We’ve got this_.

The stricken expression on May’s face barely shifts, but she still nods in reply, turning to usher the rest of the team away. Not for the first time, Jemma feels a surge of gratitude towards her mentor.

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know,’ she says quietly, thoughtfully, once the team has filtered out (however reluctantly) and Skye’s breathing has normalised a little more. ‘Panic attacks, I mean. I get them quite a lot.’

‘Me too,’ Fitz chips in from Skye’s other side.

Jemma’s head snaps towards him in alarm.

_What?_

Fitz looks suddenly sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

‘I, erm. Since…’ _The pod_ , Jemma realises. Since the pod. ‘A few times.’

She nods slowly with a shaky exhalation.

‘Bet yours don’t cause tsunamis in South-East Asia, though,’ Skye says, voice dull and bitter.

Jemma makes a disapproving tutting sound without even thinking about it. ‘I’m going to have to give you a crash course on either tectonics or geography because _honestly,_ that’s simply not plausible.’

‘Yeah, there’s no way you could cause them from all the way over here. No need to get cocky, Skye,’ Fitz jokes, bumping Skye’s shoulder with his.

Both of their attempts at lightheartedness fall flat, though – Skye continues to gaze straight ahead with a troubled expression on her face.

‘You should have left,’ she accuses tiredly, helpless tears welling up in her eyes once more. Jemma knows her friend can’t help it at this point – it’s nearly impossible to hold back the tears after an episode like the one Skye’s just had – but she feels a lump begin to form in her throat anyway. ‘You can’t… you have to leave when that happens.’

Jemma and Fitz answer simultaneously.

‘ – Not a chance.’

‘ – Yeah, good luck with that.’

Skye makes a sound of utter distress; almost animalistic in the pain it holds.

‘I can’t lose you guys too,’ she half-hisses. Her words seem to echo around the small space.

(If Jemma’s heart wasn’t broken before, it is now at the sheer anguish on Skye’s face.)

‘We can’t lose you either,’ Fitz murmurs after a shocked pause.

And that’s it, really. That’s what it comes down to. Three kids huddled together on the floor of a darkened ex-war base, so far out to sea now that they can’t even see land anymore. The only truth they know, the only truth they can recognise, is that they’re not going to let go of each other.

It’s all they have. And it’s nothing, but it’s also absolutely _everything_.

They sit with the enormity of that for a while.

‘Can I ask you something, Skye?’ Jemma begins. Skye doesn’t answer verbally, simply lifting her tired gaze in silent permission to continue.

‘When I was…’ she trails off, swallowing as she dredges up unpleasant memories. ‘When I had the Chitauri virus. Why didn’t you jump?’

Skye blinks at her.

‘What?’

‘You guys could have parachuted to safety at any point. Why didn’t you?’

Skye shakes her head a little, confused at the question. ‘Because I knew you’d fix it. You’re Jemma Simmons.’

Jemma smiles gently at her. _There it is_. ‘ _That’s_ why we’re not leaving you.’

On Skye’s other side, Fitz is grinning faintly at the comparison, nodding a little. 

‘She’s right,’ he continues, voice calm and assured. ‘You’re _Skye_. There’s nothing life’s thrown at you that you can’t deal with. You’ll deal with this too.’

Skye looks up at Fitz in surprise at that, and the two share a look that Jemma can’t quite decipher. Whatever they’re thinking of seems to relax Skye a little, at any rate, with some of the tension visibly leaving her shoulders.

‘We’ll _all_ deal with it,’ Jemma agrees.

Skye’s mouth twists into a grimace.

‘I don’t know if I can,’ she admits quietly.

Fitz won’t be deterred. ‘Well, Jem and I will just have to have faith enough for the three of us, won’t we.’

For her part, Jemma nods, trying to summon a convincing smile. Skye only shakes her head, awed disbelief painting her features.

‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys.’

Then, the expression seems to run off her face.

‘I didn’t deserve him,’ she mumbles.

_None of us deserved him_ , Jemma thinks. But that’s not what Skye needs to hear right now. She needs the truth, of course she does, just… a different one.

So Jemma falls back on what she knows.

‘He’d be so proud of you.’

‘Jemma,’ Skye pleads, face crumpling.

‘He would,’ she insists fiercely, gripping Skye’s knee tightly. ‘Skye, you _know_ he would.’

‘All I’ve done is make things worse. For _everyone_.’

‘That’s _not_ true,’ Jemma cries, losing the battle with her own tears. ‘And even if it was, there’s no way he’d see it like that.’

On Skye’s other side, Fitz seems to shuffle closer, offering comfort in the steady press of his shoulder against hers.

‘God, _Skye_ , he’d be…’ she trails off, and despite the tears rolling down her face – or perhaps even _in_ spite of them – Jemma feels a genuine smile tug at her lips. ‘Trip would be smiling all the time. He’d be so thrilled at how well you’re doing, he really would be.’

‘The smile on the man’s face whenever I so much as drank a cup of tea without spilling it…’ Fitz shook his head. ‘Christ, the man could smile.’

‘He’d be so _happy_ , Skye,’ Jemma murmurs.

Skye doesn’t answer – can’t, Jemma thinks, noting the devastation on her friend’s face – so she just tilts her head to rest on Jemma’s shoulder. Fitz and Jemma both huddle closer at the movement.

At no point have they felt Trip’s absence as much as they do in this moment. Jemma swears she can feel it bearing down on them, a phantom weight in the silence.

‘I don’t know how to exist in a world where he doesn’t,’ Skye whispers into Jemma’s shoulder after a long pause. Fitz takes a deep, shuddering breath on Skye’s other side, and Jemma doesn’t need to see his face to know that his cheeks are as tear-stained as her own are.

‘Neither do I,’ Jemma confesses. And truly, she doesn’t.

But she looks across at her friends, sandwiched together as they are; Skye sniffling into her shoulder, her opposite hand gripping Fitz’s tightly. She thinks of how the team had bolted to find Skye as soon as the ground had started to shake, the way they’d watched protectively until they knew she was okay.

Jemma rests her head on top of Skye’s, the way Skye had done so often when Fitz was in his coma.

She hasn’t a clue how they’re going to do this. But, for the first time, she thinks they just might have a fighting chance.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the poem, 'You Will Hear Thunder,' by Anna Akhmatova.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
